Disclaimer: Invader Zim does not belong to me.

Notes: This fanfiction has had  a very spotty history
with both beta-readers and spell-checking due to
circumstances beyond my control, nonetheless, it is my
hope that all of the chapters work together as a
coherent whole.  I especially appreciate C&C that will
help me to improve the flow and continuity of this
work.

~ * ~ * ~

The Things Between Us
by Growly


*Prologue: Sine Qua Non*

The room was filled with blue light, casting odd
shadows on the walls. By most standards it was a very
empty room - blank and devoid of many real signs of
humanity. Even its sole occupant, though human, seemed
as cold and lifeless as some kind of automaton. The
light turned his pale skin to a shade of slate-blue
that bore an uncanny resemblance to a corpse. The dark
shadows beneath his eyes, the haunted nature of his
stance only betrayed by his amber-eyed gaze, the way
he sat up as straight as a board despite his obvious
exhaustion - all of these only served to contribute to
the impression. If he knew or even cared about his
appearance, it was not particularly obvious.

Beneath his baggy lab-coat, his form had gone from
lean to bony, and his ebony hair drooped in his eyes
in draggling lackluster strands. Every now and then
his eyes would threaten to close, his weary body more
than ready to betray him and give in to sleep. Yet
every time he started to nod, he would drag himself
awake.

The ravaged state of his hands was indication enough
of the lengths he was going through to keep from being
pulled into slumber. Slender fingers that had once
flown over the keys with frightening ease now seeped
with blood when they moved. The wounds were never
deep, never life-threatening; most of the time they
were never even consciously made. After all, what
would his employers say? What would the media say?

There was a soft click as he opened a folder on his
computer, booting up one of his programs and putting
in his password. This was one of the few things he
felt a need to protect with a password - even his
advanced research and inventions did not merit such
care. But what did they matter? They were just his
livelihood. This was personal.

He stared at the screen for a long while, swallowing
almost convulsively. His fingers twitched, not quite
pressing down on the keys yet, but just jerking in a
manner that frighteningly resembled that of someone
being electrocuted. He was a famed scientist,
award-winning inventor and all-around genius, yet he
had fear in him - had the jitters too strong to even
think about controlling them.

"Take a deep breath... concentrate... focus..." He
repeated the mantra in his head, forcing himself to a
calm that was so complete it was eerie. His body
stopped shaking, still responding to his increasingly
erratic attempts at control. How much longer he could
do this? He wasn't really sure. Not long. His efforts
were expending energy he no longer had available to
use. Then again, at this point, who cared, really? It
was so close to being over that he could taste the end
- and it tasted as bitter as tears or ashes. As bitter
as a broken dream and a broken heart.

His fingers typed in the words with careful
deliberation:

~Log #124~

This is it... this is the last time I'm going to write
anything. I'm so tired of this all... I know I don't
have anything to prove, and I know I don't have to
bother explaining myself. Who would care, anyway?

Nobody. But I'm not doing this for anyone else. I'm
doing it for me. For... us. And perhaps someday,
someone will care enough to read this and find out
just why I've done the things I've done.

Maybe they'll even find it in their hearts to forgive
me for what I'm about to do... 


~ * ~ * ~



*Chapter 1: Prima Facie*

~Log #42~

Sometimes I wonder what my life would be if I had done
things differently. I�m sure everyone has at some
point or another. Knowing what I know now - what I
didn�t know then - would I have changed my mind? Most
of the time I answer my own question with a firm "no�,
but every once in a while I wonder. Especially on
nights when it�s dark and quiet and I�m alone. And I�m
alone a lot.

In some ways nothing has really changed at all. I�m
still the eternal outsider. People don�t flock to me
the way they did to my dad. I wonder what he had to
make them love him so much. Whatever it is, I don�t
have it. I have the charisma of a dead fish - a week
dead fish. Gaz has more crowd appeal than I do.

I miss my old life. I�m not the subject of ridicule
anymore, but I still do. I have regrets. Why must I
have regrets? It�s useless... a waste of time.

There�s no going back now.

* * * 

�Zim.� Dib�s voice didn�t have that normal intense
tone - the sort of �I know what you�re up to� quality
that the Invader was used to. It sounded... almost
tired. And it didn�t seem to fill the lunch room the
way it normally would. The fact that it was quiet
seemed to draw the attention of many of the students
who had quickly learned to ignore the loud spats the
two were frequently known for. Heads started to turn
in their direction, blank looks on many of the faces
that usually held jeering smiles.

The Irken never really noticed them - they were stupid
anyway, undeserving of his attention. He had a wary
expression on his face as he turned to face his enemy.
The human had been interfering with him less and less
of late, and he didn�t trust this behavior at all. It
didn�t fit with what he knew of his enemy�s
personality - and he fancied that he knew Dib better
than anyone else on earth did. Therefore, all of this
had to be part of some elaborate plot on his enemy�s
part. He just wasn�t sure what kind of plot... �What
do you want now, earth stink?� His own voice was a
penetrating hiss - bubbling from his throat with
unmistakable venom. This reaction seemed to ease their
watchers somewhat, far more typical of the two enemies
as it was.

To the alien�s surprise the human did not immediately
shoot back with some pithy reply. Instead the boy just
peered at him through the thick lenses of his glasses,
his expression utterly unreadable. Zim wasn�t sure
what to make of this, as the Dib was normally no good
at hiding his evil intentions and more often didn�t
even bother to try. But this time, Dib only shook his
head - this lackluster response only serving to
frustrate the already confused Irken even further.
�Nothing.�

�Eh?� Zim froze, his mouth still hanging open in
mid-shout, but only a half-choked sound of surprise
emerging. That wasn�t in the script! That answer made
no sense at all, reverberating around Zim�s brain
without ever really settling. An annoying buzz like a
bee. A bee!

The lunchroom had fallen absolutely quiet, a fact
which Zim noticed only in some small area in the back
of his mind. A hundred or more staring eyes were aimed
in their direction, accompanied by looks that ranged
the spectrum from contempt to utter disbelief. There
was a soft splatter as someone�s lunch slid off their
tilting tray and hit the floor.

[What do you want? Nothing... What do you want?]

[Nothing. Nothing. Nothing...]

�I�m tired of this stupid game, Zim,� Dib�s voice
barely registered with the Invader at all, but there
was a note of something desperate in his tone that Zim
couldn�t place. �My dad is right. I�m going to study
�Real Science�! No more chasing moronic aliens for
me!� He had that familiar stubborn look on his face -
the one that Zim knew meant he didn�t plan to change
his mind, but what he was saying was impossible to
comprehend.

The Dib would not be interfering with his plans any
longer? He no longer had to worry about a constant
threat of exposure? But that... that was a GOOD thing!
The full implications sank in and he laughed wildly,
leaping up onto the the table with his fists raised to
the air in victory. �Mwaha! Ha! Hahaha! I knew it!
Foolish stinkbeast! I knew one day you would surrender
to the superior might of Zim! His laughter died into
puzzled silence however, as he saw that the Dib was
not listening. Instead the human had turned his back
on Zim and walked away.

Suddenly the Irken did not feel quite so jovial
anymore. �Hey...where�s the stink boy going...?�

* 

The rest of the day passed without incident; by the
time the bell rang, Zim had to admit that he was
thoroughly and hopelessly confused. His mortal enemy
had not so much as even looked in his direction since
their run-in in the lunch room. Not that Zim trusted
this behavior. No, it must simply be some kind of ruse
to catch him off-guard.

His gaze flitted across the room to where the human
sat next to the window. Dib was staring out the glass,
a blank expression on his face. Zim doubted he even
noticed the cyborg squirrel that was currently chewing
a gaping hole in the tree near their classroom. Yes...
a ruse. That had to be it. There was no other way to
explain a sudden lack of interest in the greatness
that was ZIM!

�Clever...� Zim rasped, his eyes narrowing into thin
slits as he considered this new angle. He had
underestimated the Dib, but it was not a mistake he
would make again. He tapped his black gloved fingers
speculatively against the top of his desk as he peered
intently over at the human. The boy had gone back to
the textbook in front of him and seemed utterly
absorbed by it, even though Zim knew that his enemy
had already read the entire thing. Twice. He was
almost tempted to feel some slight respect for the
wormbaby and was quick to quell any such notion.

�He is the Dib! He is my enemy! I am far superior to
this groveling, pathetic earth-monkey! I do not need
to show him respect!� Thus fortified, the Irken set
about trying to figure out what the Dib�s REAL plan
could possibly be.

Surely the human was still planning to expose him
somehow - that was a given. The thought of what
prestige and power such a discovery would bring was
what was driving the puny human. Zim could understand
that as it was not altogether unsimilar to his own
motivations. Were Zim in Dib�s situation he might have
done exactly the same thing.

Wait...that was it! He and the Dib shared certain
similiarities - only on a superficial level, of
course, as he, ZIM, was clearly the superior being in
every way. Perhaps Dib was using this knowledge to his
advantage.

�Of course!� The invader barely refrained from
laughing in triumph as he realized what his new plan
must be. �I must get into the human�s head. I must
think like Dib. I must BE Dib, despite the fact that
he is so clearly below me. Ha! I shall become a
superior Dib and discover what things he is planning
in his huge meat-filled head!�

He smirked evilly as he fixed his gaze on the still
preoccupied human. �Just you wait, human-Dib! Soon you
will be defeated by ZIM!� Sinking back into his chair,
the invader started to scribble on the outdated
textbook, humming the Doom Song�s refrain with gleeful
abandon.

Doom doom doom. Doom Doom Dib. Doomed Dib, doom doom
dooooom...

* * *

~Log #70~

I don�t even know where he is now. It was on the news
a lot - when he was captured, I mean. There was a
whole media circus; it was all over the place. �Proof
of extraterrestrial life� was pasted in messageboards
all over the world. Pictures of the �captured alien�
ran rampant over the net.

It wasn�t me. After all the work, all the effort - the
blood, sweat and tears I poured into my pursuit of
Zim, it wasn�t my name on the newscasts. There wasn�t
even the slightest mention of it. Some amateur
photographer who wasn�t even a paranormalist got the
credit. I remember being shocked - disbelieving - for
a while. And jealous, even though I had no right to be
jealous. I told myself that a lot - that I had been
the one to end the chase and that I should take it
like a mature adult.

It�s just... I just couldn�t. It hurt so much to see
it. So much...

The pictures of Zim, bound and caged; of GIR being
dismantled... they made my insides twist painfully. I
turned off the TV and did not turn it back on again
for months. Gaz told me I was being dense. Dad was
overjoyed that I was �tuning out distractions�.
Neither of them understood. They just can�t know.

He was mine. My alien! My enemy. And someone took him
away. I let them do it.

If I knew where he was... I don�t know...

It�s better not to think about it. To pretend that I
didn�t hear Zim screaming my name in desperation and
anger when they sedated him. To try and convince
myself that I had done the only sane, reasonable thing
to do.

Sometimes I wish I was stupid. Then I might actually
believe all my lies...

* * *

His clever plan to infiltrate the Dib�s base was
proving to be a bit more difficult than expected. It
wasn�t so much that the human was taking special
precautions to keep him out, but rather that the boy
was not in his room - his normal base of operations -
at all. The first time Zim had gotten inside, he�d
congratulated himself on his cleverness. The multiple
alarms set up along the perimeter of the house had
been all too easy to avoid. Only the electric field in
the window had been a challenge, one that Zim readily
disarmed before hopping from the sill to the floor.

The room was dimly lit, as he remembered from the
previous times he had managed to make his way inside.
Aside from the bed, and a few random pieces of
scattered junk that Zim couldn�t even begin to
identify, the room was adorned with its normal
paranormal theme very obvious. Dib�s computer was
sitting on the edge of the bed, and the alien made his
way to it with wary interest gleaming in his magenta
eyes. The Dib carried this stupid machine everywhere,
and that meant that it was likely to have information
on it.

He flipped the screen up, the blue light emanating
from it turning his skin a shade of turquoise as his
fingers tapped over the keys. He couldn�t use the
human style of typing, as the wormbabies had more
fingers per hand than he did, but he was able to
shuffle through the files with only a few problems.
For the most part it turned up a few random pictures
of bigfoot that Zim only snorted at, some .avi files
and a list of haunted areas in town.

He was flipping through one of the numbered folders
when he came across one labeled IZ8169.2. It was the
first one had had seen with �z� in the name - a good
enough reason to expect it to be about him, by his
reasoning. He clicked on the folder and it opened.
Jackpot! It was exactly what he had come there looking
for.

The trouble began when he realized there just wasn�t
very much in the way of evidence - not in the folder,
or any of the other folders that he flipped through
meticulously. There were three or four odd pictures of
him on the computer, and dredging through Dib�s
drawers he found two more. Ripping up the offending
images, the alien felt a hint of frustration - not at
what he had found, but, rather, what he hadn�t.

Since the Irken knew that Dib had meticulously
collected mounds of pictures and assorted other
�proof� which Zim�s search did not turn up, he could
only conclude that either Dib had turned it all in to
some one - unlikely as Zim had not been captured for
interrogation - he had found somewhere to hide it that
was too clever for Zim to find - even MORE unlikely,
given Zim�s superior brain - or he had disposed of it
entirely - the most unlikely probability of all! It
just didn�t make sense! Was the Dib doing this to
confuse him and throw him off-track? Did his plan take
Zim�s inability to reconcile these possibilities into
account?

If so, then it was a more ingenious plan then Zim
could ever have thought his enemy capable of. With a
growl of annoyance, he snapped the top of the laptop
down with enough force to crack the case. He didn�t
care! Let the Dib know he had been snooping, perhaps
it would spur the human to make a move.

He strutted to the window and exited the house,
leaving the torn photos scattered across the floor
like confetti.

*

It did not take the Invader long to discover where Dib
was spending his time now, despite GIR�s numerous
attempts to �help� his master with surveillance (he
had quickly forbidden the robot to assist him after
GIR had chewed up his recording equipment). The answer
was quite simple and obvious: Dib was in the lab with
his father, Professor Membrane. No attempt was made to
disguise this fact which, in itself, made the alien
suspicious.

With a bit of help from the cybernetic squirrel, Zim
installed secret cameras in the lab and pored over the
gathered information with feverish intensity. His
magenta eyes were fixed on the screen as he replayed
the recordings again and again searching for hidden
meanings and discovered nothing. He listened to audio
recordings, filtered out background noises - played
them forward and backward, fast and slow, to no avail.
The constant disappointment was starting to show. His
nerves and temper were both frayed, things he would
normally have ignored or dismissed were starting to
set him off.

After months of this uncomfortable status quo, the
Invader could scarcely think straight; he was far too
busy trying to find out what was going on with his
mortal enemy. Eating was a trivial distraction,
leaving the house was an annoyance and even his calls
to the Almighty Tallest had become terse and to the
point. What they must have thought of his odd
behavior, Zim didn�t know, nor did he really care.
They hadn�t offered to send the Armada to earth yet;
the only news that might have torn him from his
growing obsession.

Every once in a while he was conscious of the
abnormality of his behavior, and knew just who to
blame. �What are you doing to me, earth stink? Is this
some vile, meaty plan to... to...� His thought process
stalled for a moment and he stared vacantly at the
screen he�d been watching non-stop for the past few
days. He didn�t really see it, his mind too caught up
with other things. �This is all on purpose! Somehow
the Dib knew this would happen! Somehow he caused my
mind to be full of these... thoughts of FILTH!� He
slammed his fist down on the consule, watched the
image blur and reduce to static.

�I will go confront the Dib myself,� The Irken growled
at the blank screen, �He will pay for his attempt at
defeating Zim with his �psycho� warfare!� Zim laughed
maniacally, ignoring the pained groans emanating from
the computer, as well as Gir�s own inane little
giggles.

Tonight would mean the human�s utter defeat. �Ha! Chew
on that, filthy earth monkey!�

* * *

~Log #94~

Another entry tonight...

It occurs to me that I spend an insane amount of time
recording my own thoughts. I don�t know why I even
bother - it�s not like I ever read them again once
they�ve been logged. Maybe it�s just because I have no
one to talk to anymore. Dad promptly extricated
himself from my life completely as soon as Gaz turned
eighteen and became a legal adult. And Gaz... I don�t
even know where she is. The day after her birthday she
up and vanished, only remembering to send me a post
card every now and then commenting on my relative
stupidity.

So I got the house and pretty much everything in it.
With more than enough money left for me to survive on,
I probably could have never worked again and been
completely comfortable. But after years of being
obsessively active, I couldn�t have settled down very
easily. I invented a bunch of stuff which turned out
to be quite useful, but there�s no way I could ever
compete with my �savior of mankind� father. Not that I
want to anymore.

I work frequently and my sleeping hours are almost
nonexistent - a fact my employers often capitalize on.
I also work cheaply, another point in my favor. One
other thing I do is talk to myself... frequently. This
journal is just an extension of that, I think. At
least if it�s written, people don�t stare at me when
they think I�m not looking.

I miss being a paranormal investigator. I miss all the
things I used to do. The excitement, all the risks I
used to take. I miss... I miss...

I miss Zim...

God, I�m stupid...I�m so glad I�ll never read this
entry again.

* * *

Sneaking into the lab where Membrane worked turned out
to be quite easy, except for a little run-in with a
cybernetic monkey and of course the BEES! Why were
there BEES? A clever disguise enabled the Irken to get
past the guarded door to the inner laboratory. Dressed
as a janatorial worker, he waltzed right in and began
to �clean�, watching the Dib-human warily from the
corner of his eye. The stinkbeast didn�t even notice
he was there, fiddling with his �devices� and talking
to his father. Ha! Truly his disguise was amazing! He
chuckled softly to himself as he pushed his stinkbeast
cleaning tool across the floor, causing a billowing
cloud of dust.

Dib was smiling up at the professor, his eyes bright
with excitement, although Zim was unable to understand
most of what they were talking about - something
involving some stupid wormbaby coffee beanie thing. He
remained for quite a while, pretending to wipe tables
and shine walls, although his actual attempts at these
�cleaning duties� became less and less pronounced the
longer he remained. The conversation was not the
reason for his dismay - that could have been faked and
encoded in so many different ways that trying to make
sense of it would have been an exercise in futility.
No. It was everything else he was watching; everything
else that he saw.

Zim was good at self-delusion - he had survived
circumstances that would have broken most others,
through sheer force of will. But there were some
truths that could not be staved off forever.

Dib was... happy. Happy! The look on the human�s face
was intense as any of the ones he remembered that had
always been directed at him, but it was somehow
gentler in tone now. Softer. Full of some mysterious
human emotion that made his gut twist in jealously.

But he wasn�t jealous! Not now, not over a foul,
stinky earth child with a huge head! Never!

The broom clattered to the floor as Zim clenched his
fists, his small body shaking in suppressed fury.
Neither of the two humans seemed to notice at all, too
absorbed in their conversation and laughter. Oh, that
laughter - it was mocking him; taunting him.

�I am ZIM!� He screamed out mentally before scrambling
across the floor, accompanied by spray of dirty water
as his mop bucket toppled over. He reached one of the
windows and didn�t hesitate for a moment on his way
out. The sound of shattering glass drew a brief moment
of interest on the part of the father/son team of
scientists, but only enough to order a robot janitor
to clean up the broken glass.

The robot complied without a word.

* * *

~Log #103~

I can�t sleep.

It haunts me. My dreams...haunt me.

Everything I�ve ever done, everything that I didn�t do
is echoing around in my skull ceaselessly. A constant
repetition of my rights and wrong - a tape caught on
repeat.

I�m crazy. I must be crazy.

They knew I think... they must�ve known this would
happen. It was inevitable. The funny thing is, I�ve
tried to be sane for such a long time, following the
course my father laid out for me as best I could
manage, but none of it really ever helped. The old me
has always been inside somewhere just waiting to
emerge.

It�s not the being crazy that I mind. I almost enjoy
it at times...

No. It�s just that now I have finally decided that I�d
like to do what I�m meant to be doing and it�s just
too late. What I had is gone, and all I can do is live
with it... take it like a man. If only I didn�t have
to care what people thought, I might actually try
something. Probably something stupid, knowing me. And
to think, most people consider me a genius...

Actually, there is a way to... not fix, this is beyond
fixing... but perhaps there�s something I can do to
rid myself of this horrible knowledge. The guilt is
eating me alive... I just want it to stop. I want it
all to stop...

I can�t live this lie anymore.

* * *

He didn�t think about the human anymore. Good
riddance! Now that he had established that his mortal
enemy had indeed given up the chase, Zim threw himself
into his world conquest with the desperate intensity
of a drowning man. He worked unceasingly on plan after
plan - drawing up schematics, putting together his
devices. His ideas ranged the gamut from hypnotic
substances to be introduced into the human food
sources, to huge explosive devices designed to track
down and detonate important human installations. One
of his plans incorporated both ideas, a work of art
that was enough to make any lesser individual drool at
the ingeniousness of it all. But they were never
completed - never used. Not even one. Invaritably each
idea would be almost completed, then summarily
rejected, leaving Zim to start over with something
new. Each plan was simply not good enough - was
lacking in some aspect that made it unacceptable.
Months of work, thrown away like so much garbage -
schematics stuffed in the trash, half-built mechas
scattered across his underground lab in various states
of incompletion. His precious ideas had all dried up
and blown away.

But he didn�t seem to notice the lack of progress at
all. GIR had a better grasp of the situation than his
master did. The little robot sat on top of the
viewscreen and watched Zim pace and rant - his wide
cyan eyes following every movement with an
attentiveness that the SIR unit had never shown when
called upon to assist the Invader. He wasn�t helping
now - Zim wasn�t even asking for his help. Sipping
idly on his freezy drink, the little robot dangled his
legs over the screen, waving them in time to his
humming.

Master wouldn�t care. Master was busy.

He wasn�t even noticed, except as the subject of a few
pithy curses when Zim was particularly annoyed by his
lack of progress. It didn�t take long for even GIR�s
malfunctioning little mind to realize something just
wasn�t right. He blinked down at the Irken, tilting
his metal head to one side as Zim made another circuit
of the room.

�This one will be flawless! With this the filthy
earth-monkeys will bow to the will of ZIM! Who dares
stop me?� The little alien stopped in his pacing,
looking around, an almost expectant expression on his
face for a moment. Then slowly his perked antennae
went back, lying flat against his head, the glitter in
his eyes fading again as his mouth pulled into a
grimace. The enthusiasm was gone just as quickly. �No
one, of course...� His voice was a low mutter now,
tinged with anger.

A giggle was the only response to Zim�s brief
outburst, and the alien whirled on his little robot
companion with a snarl. �GIR! Get down from there! Go
do something useful! Like... eating some kid�s brains
or something!� Stupid robot. �Advanced� technology or
not, the thing obviously had a few wires crossed. At
this outburst, the SIR unit grinned, his tongue
sticking out stupidly.

�Okie-dokie!� GIR jumped down from the viewscreen,
using his master�s head like a trampoline and
rebounding to land in a heap on the ground. With a
giggle, he picked himself up and pulled on his dog
suit, bounding over to the lift in a series of little
squeaks. Zim wasn�t too worried that the robot would
be back to bother him. GIR tended to be gone for hours
- if not days. He could always find something to
preoccupy him and keep him away. Make that a few
million things...

In any case, it allowed Zim to turn his mind to other
things - but he had pretty much forgotten about his
plan already. His attention had been drawn by the one
of his satellite monitoring screens, which had picked
up some foolish earth broadcast. That in itself was
neither startling nor disconcerting, no... it was the
subject of the newscast that caught his eye. The Dib
human... The Irken hadn�t been completely ignorant of
what his former enemy had been up to this entire time,
although he tuned out the matter well enough that it
seemed so. Still, while he had known that the Dib was
becoming known to the general populace, it was still
jarring to see it with his own eyes.

He hadn�t actually seen the human since that...
falling out was the best term the Invader could come
up with, although it didn�t quite capture the nature
of their obsessive rivalry. His studies of earth had
brought him to the conclusion that humans were prone
to doing an annoying thing called �growing up� - a
time when they became taller despite their stupidity.
He�d wondered before if it was an anomaly that some of
the humans were so tall - like the teachers - while
others were quite short. A few backward earth-biology
lessons had corrected that particular impression, and
left Zim with more than a bit of resentment. Despite
the proven fact, he had somehow never expected Dib to
go and do the same stupid thing.

Time had made a difference yes... it had only been a
couple of years - an eyeblink in the lifetime of an
Irken - and the boy who had once chased him around
with alien sleep-cuffs and yelled promises to persue
him to the ends of the earth was now startlingly
changed. But still the Dib... Zim would have
recognized him no matter how much he was unfamiliar on
the outside.

The small, big-headed boy had grown up into a lean
young man - far taller than Zim, although not as tall
as his father. Something about his manner of dress was
jarring to Zim - seeing the human in a white labcoat,
instead of the black garments the boy had favored.,
was an image he couldn�t quite reconcile. But the long
sickle spike of hair was the same, the amber eyes
behind thick eyeglasses was the same. The fact that he
now seemed properly proportioned to his (formerly)
enormous head was actually sort of a nice change. The
fact that Dib seemed happy and proud, displaying his
new invention and explaining its inner workings to the
woman interviewing him was not nearly so nice.

Heat filled the Invader�s body, and he climbed up atop
the console, his face pressed so close to the screen
that he could feel the tingle of energy across his
skin. He was on the verge of actually attempting to
reach through and grab his rival before he remembered
it was just a recording. Stupid, stupid, stupid... He
was not jealous. He was ZIM! He would never be jealous
of the Dib, no matter how happy the other seemed to
be. With a growl of disgust, the Irken drew back, his
boots hitting the floor with a click.

�Let the earth filth believe he has bested me,� Zim
hissed to the distinctly unenthusiastic base computer,
the only audience around to hear him, �but he will
soon discover otherwise! Yes, he shall soon taste
defeat at the mighty hands of ZIM!� The alien raised
both hands to the air, clenched into shaking fists,
while the computer mumbled something that might have
been �ok, whatever.�

*

Time never seemed to hold a steady pace - days
stretching out for forever before clumping in large
groups and flashing past in an eyeblink. Irken years
were not the same as human anyway, how could they be
when the earth creatures had such feeble lifespans?
What was a hundred years to an Irken?

It hadn�t ever consciously occurred to Zim that he
could simply outlast his mortal enemy - as far as
plans went, the idea was lacking in the proper
dramatic flair. On the other hand, Zim was starting to
find the passage of time more and more vexing. He
might have had decades without number to carry out his
mission, but the Dib didn�t. He needed to conquer the
planet and he needed to conquer it soon - conquer it
NOW. Waiting for the Dib to die of old age was simply
not an option.

Perhaps somewhere deep inside himself, he was also
coming to realize a more disturbing truth. Without the
Dib around to thwart him, his plans just didn�t want
to function properly. Without the Dib around, all of
his ambitions would be for nothing. Who would there be
for him to gloat over, to humilate, to be supreme lord
and master of - who, if not Dib? No, it had to be soon
- because in the off-chance that the human should die
from some stupid, weak, stinkbeast...thing, Zim would
see all of his hard work fall to waste.

Still, it seemed there was little he could do but wait
it out. His goal to tune the human out had done a
one-hundred-eighty degree reversal, and he was now
just as diligent as the Dib had ever been in pursuit
of him. He stared endlessly at the bank of screens
that monitered every aspect of Dib�s personal life. So
he knew the day Dib turned eighteen and became a legal
adult by human standards. He stood silent and gleeful
witness to the human�s first failed relationship as
well as the ones that were to follow it.

The fact that his former mortal enemy was completely
unable to maintain any sort of permanent romantic
attachment to one of these pathetic dirt-worms was no
great surprise to Zim. What ridiculous earth female
could possibly compare with the might of the Irken
elite? After years of obsessing over an Invader of
Zim�s stature, after the trials and toils the human
had endured in his pursuits, what could anyone else
have to offer that could come close?

The answer was obvious. Nothing. And to give the
Dib-human some tiny amount of credit, Zim observed
that he did not persue a relationship with the same
giddy stupidity that much of the species seemed to
associate with the ridiculous concept of �love�. For
the young man, potential partners were pegged,
investigated with a thoroughness that left little room
for emotional considerations, and then discarded with
the same cool detachment that the human used when
conducting science experiments. This calculating and
cynical approach both relieved and deeply disturbed
the Invader for reasons he could not even begin to
comprehend.

He watched the Dib going through the convoluted
courtship rituals with a new subject, a red-headed
female who might have been fetching by inferior
stinkbeast standards. She seemed to be showing a great
deal of interest in his former enemy, while he
remained fairly cool towards her. There were a few
tense moments though, moments that caused Zim to
narrow his eyes in a mixture of anger and disgust.
Occasionally, he would even go so far as to snarl or
shake his fist at the screen, but right at the moment
he did neither, merely snatching hold of GIR by the
ear of his doggy disguise and dragging him over.

�Look at him GIR!� Zim hissed venomously to his robot
slave, spittle flying in the tiny SIR unit�s face. GIR
only blinked vacantly up at his master, his little
pink tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth.
�Stupid Dib, with his �real science�, and his �dating�
and his horrible big head!� It didn�t even matter that
Dib�s head wasn�t abnormally out of proportion
anymore, he was unable to think of such trivialities
in his rage. �Doing his...STUFF. He thinks he has
gotten the best of me - of ZIM! But he will pay, oooh,
he will pay.� The alien fell silent briefly while the
robot in his grasp continued to stare up at him
uncomprehendingly. �Do you know was this means, GIR?�
The Invader finally spoke again, his voice
frighteningly quiet.

�We�re gonna put salted nuts in his biiiiiig smelly
head?� GIR crooned in sickening sing-song, then
grinned. A moment later his master�s grip was relased
and he dropped to the floor with a dull thunk. He
stared up at the Invader, who seemed to be deep in
thought.

A considering smile crossed Zim�s lips.

�Yes.� He began to chuckle softly, then soon erupted
into peals of maniacal laughter, the likes of which
the base had not heard in years.

~ * ~ * ~

*Chapter Two: Fait Accompli*

~Log 122~

There�s not really much left to do - just a few
arrangements to make. If everything goes as I�m
planning, I won�t be logging back on to my system.
Longer than 24 hours without me signing in and the
computer will know to send out these logs to the
people who need to see them.

It�s sort of a moot point, I guess: If I fail I might
spend the rest of my life in the hospital�s psych ward
in a straightjacket... If I succeed, I�m sure the word
will get out fairly quickly. That�s one of the
side-effects of being famous - even if it is only fame
by association.

Still, I wish I knew where my dad was - if he�s still
alive. He deserves to know, I suppose. Even sending a
final message to Gaz would be nice - although she
cares as little for me as she would for a bug to be
crushed underfoot.

I�m stalling. I don�t even know if I really want to go
through with this...

Just a few things left - if I can force myself to stop
stalling. There�s nothing to be scared of, Dib. It�s
only a matter of life and death and all the possible
other consequences...

Nothing to worry about...

...Right?

* * *

Zim�s new plan was very distinctly different than many
of the ones he had come up with previously. It was
plainly lacking in his trademark �blowing up of
anything in the vicinity�, as well as weapons of mass
destruction, killer hamsters or mutant cyborg monkeys.
It was a much quieter operation than any he had
concocted, and while his palms still itched
incessantly with the desire to add a destroyer mecha
or five into the equation, he managed to curb it. Dib
was no good to him dead! After he had the stinkbeast
captive, he would see about catching up on all the
mayhem and destruction he had been missing out on
since his enemy had gone off to do his �real science�.
That would be delicious!

What his plan lacked in flashy dramatics, it made up
for in slim simplicity. It was the sort of plan not
even a moron could mess up - a fact which was sure to
work to his advantage. The only potential negative was
the reliance on GIR�s admittedly faulty memory and
responses. Still, after his last attempt to fix his
little robot, Zim had wisely elected to leave things
along. Advanced Irken technology was nothing that
needed fooling around with anyway.

He bustled around his lab, head and antennae both
perked with anticipation. There was a smooth purpose
to his every motion that had been distinctly lacking
for a long time. Even the base computer was puzzled
into silence - a lack of any sarcastic remarks proved
that. GIR watched his master work, munching animatedly
on a bag of poop-flavored cheetos. Cheezy crumbs
littered the console he was perched on, but Zim did
not yell at him for it. The Invader was far too
preoccupied with his own cheerful humming.

Only a few hours more and he would have the
Dib-monkey�s undivided attention once again! He
readied his disguise - choosing for this mission, a
variation on the disguise he had worn while in skool
with his rival. Blue contacts and a black wig
completed his adornments and, at last, all was
prepared. He cajoled the SIR unit into the rarely used
�toddler� disguise and paused for a last look around
at his secret base. There was little chance of anyone
discovering it in the brief time he would be away, but
he was taking no chances. �Computer! Turn on the
perimeter defense system as soon as I leave! Take it
down for NO ONE!�

�Um... I�m not sure that�s such a good idea...� The
computer intoned, with a mixture of fascination and
horror.

By this point the Invader should have been well used
to the mechanical backtalk - it wasn�t exactly an
uncommon occurrence, after all. But Zim being Zim, he
immediately responded with as much force as he could
muster. �SILENCE! You dare question Zim�s INGENIOUS
ideas?� The Irken screeched, shaking a fist at the
computer. �My ideas always succeed!� Except when the
Dib tried to stop him, of course. With luck, he would
have his mortal enemy bowing at his feet before the
day was out. Then nothing would be left to impede him.
Still giddy - drunk on the thought of his ultimate
victory, he was able to completely tone out the
computer�s voice hemming and hawing and saying nothing
of Zim�s unrivaled genius.

Satisfied that all was in order, Zim laid his antennae
back in a stiff right angle to his head as he
half-marched, half-strutted toward the lift. GIR
followed at his heels, prancing and cavorting like a
four year old on a sugar high. It was a rather tight
squeeze, as Zim entered the lift and GIR immediately
took this as an invitation to join him, crawling up
onto his master�s head with a squeal.

�GIR!�

The Invader�s voice reverberated through the lift in a
mixture of pain and embarrassed anger as they rose up
to the upper base, emerging through the trash can with
GIR still yanking wildly on Zim�s antennae. �I want a
pony!�

�No GIR! No ponies!� Zim let out a string of curses in
Irken, trying to shake the little SIR unit loose with
some frantic shaking and bucking, making a wild
circuit of the room. The eyes of the robo-parents
followed these antics, sparks flying from their necks
as their heads turned slowly to watch the cavorting
alien. As usual, their mechanical faces showed no
hints of anything resembling emotion, but somehow they
seemed to radiate amusement nonetheless. GIR was
making �cowboy� noises, oblivious to Zim�s anger.
�Yoooouuu! Roboparents! HELP ME!�

It took both of the Roboparents to pry the SIR unit
from the invader�s head, as GIR seemed to find this
new game a great deal of fun and clung with
enthusiasm. In the aftermath, as the hyperactive robot
giggled and hugged the Roboparents around the knees,
Zim hissed and seethed, rubbing at his aching
antennae. They were wasting valuable time!

�Is this a bad time to mention-� The computer began,
hesitantly, then shut up at a glare from the peeved
Invader. Zim waited for a moment, then nodded at the
lingering silence. Grabbing GIR by the back of the
toddler costume, he stalked to the door.

�Have a good day at school, Son!� The Robofather
managed to chime dutifully before the door slammed
shut and knocked him into the far wall where he
twitched - little sparks emerging from his mechanical
limbs.

*

Dib did not work from home - a fact that Zim regarded
as unfortunate - especially considering how well he
knew the stinkbeast�s defense systems and the way
Dib�s mind worked. Or at least he thought he knew -
after all this time he couldn�t be absolutely sure,
but he preferred to err on the side of his infallible
brain! Of course, it hardly applied now.

Unlike his father, the Dib was employed by an outside
company. Zim did not make the mistake of
underestimating his opponent and thinking this was
because his enemy was stupider than his meat-brained
parental unit. He�d faced enough defeats at the hands
of the earth monkey to know better - Dib was smart, in
science at least. He�d hacked into Zim�s Irken
technology on several occasions, a feat that should
have been impossible for someone with such feeble
brainmeats. Maybe it was because of his huge head...

In any case, it would not be the Dib�s defenses he
would have to worry about - just the defenses of the
company he was working for. �This should go
smoothly...� Zim smirked as he surveyed the
installation from his vantage point behind a tree
several yards away.

The perimeter was marked by a tall chain-link fence
with barbed wire on top of it. There were no entrances
other than the one that was manned by a security
guard. Zim had studied the schematics of the building
- as well as its security system - beforehand. He�d
done quite a bit more research than was his norm, but
he would leave nothing to chance here. It had seemed
quite unnecessary after the fact, of course. The
security measures were not particularly complex by his
standards. Why Dib would allow himself to work in such
a primitive facility, Zim had no clue. It made his job
easier, so he also didn�t really care.

On the other hand, while the security systems were far
from works of genius, there were lots of guards about.
>From just a cursory view, Zim could spy more guards
than would have been used in a high security military
base. Not a problem - except that they would prove a
distraction, and he needed to get to Dib as quickly
and easily as possible. Barging straight in through
the fence was an inadvisable notion at best.

Besides, getting to Dib would be simplicity itself
once he was inside. The question was: How was he going
to slip past the guards and security cameras without
calling attention to himself?

�A flaw in my plan?� Zim fumed, his antennae trying to
twitch beneath his wig and unable to. If all else
failed, he might go ahead with a direct assault, but
after so carefully crafting his plan, he was reluctant
to waste this work of pure genius. He grimaced and
looked around for something to inspire him.

A wave of chatter and the sound of footsteps alerted
him to the presence of a group of humans who were
approaching down the path. The little invader sank
further back into the shadows, watching them pass with
growing curiosity. They approached the gate and Zim
smirked, knowing that they would be stopped by the
stinkbeast in charge of the entryway. His eyes bulged
as the guard merely glanced over the little white name
badges they were wearing and waved them past. He
needed a badge. BRILLIANT!

But how to get one...?

A grumbling voice approaching from the road caught his
undivided attention immediately. �I told you we were
going to be late for the tour. But you just HAD to
watch your stupid show!� This was coming from the lips
of a skinny teenage female who was dragging a lanky
young man along by the wrist. She was dressed in a
white shirt and black pants - with one of the name
tags dangling from the edge of her shirt. �Do you know
how hard I had to work to get us these tour badges?
Well do you!�

The boy only shrugged, seeming distinctly unimpressed.
His feet were dragging, leaving little scuffs along
the path. �C�mon babe, it�s just some stupid science
junk!� The teen�s voice was an irritating whine as he
was herded toward the gate. From this vantage, Zim
could make out a second badge clipped onto the edge of
the small bag he wore dangling around his neck.

�Hey, I went along to your stupid galleries, and all I
ask is that you come along and do something I like for
once! Besides, I don�t care what you say about your
�art� - science is a much better field. You can
actually make money before you die!� The female�s
peeved voice hissed right on back, silencing the
complaints.

Zim�s eyes narrowed, his lips slowly curling upward in
a toothy smile. Beside him, GIR was pulling leaves
from the bushes and cramming them into his mouth with
mindless abandon. Ignoring his robot slave, Zim eased
himself forward, spider-legs emerging from his pak and
lifting his body off the ground.

The two teens froze mid-step and mid-argument, sensing
danger somehow. Unforgivably stupid though they might
have been, obviously they still possessed at least
some rudimentary survival instinct. As the shadowy
figure rose from the bushes and cast darkness over
them, they backed up, slowly. What they must have
thought upon seeing him was anyone�s guess, but the
Invader fancied that it was terror he was seeing. It
was delicious. As if in response to his thoughts, the
girl staggered backwards a ways more, her progress
only halting when her back slammed into the solid
barrier of a tree trunk. A whimpery sound escaped her
throat as she cowered before him. The boy squealed,
high and long and slumped to the ground in a limp
heap.

Upon seeing the reactions of the two humans, Zim
couldn�t help but laugh. He approached the girl first,
stopping just a few feet away with his eyes narrowed
into thin slits of wicked glee. There was no way he
could help a smirk as she tried to flinch away from
him. After all the times he�d been unable to make the
Dib feel such terror, it was reassuring to know that
he could still command it in others. It just confirmed
his suspicions that the Dib was different from the
rest of these pathetic pieces of FILTH roaming the
planet... nearly his equal. Definitely his mortal
enemy.

With a low chuckle, the Invader moved forward,
deceptively slow at first but then in a blinding
pounce that would have done a feline credit. His
gloved hand closed over the badge, tearing it away in
a smooth motion. The Irken backed off as soon as he
had it, although a bit late for the continued presence
of mind of the girl. She passed out completely, and
Zim was more than willing to just leave her there. He
was already on his way to the boy, snatching hold of
the second badge and pulling it free. The lid of the
bag pulled as well, allowing the carrier to fall open
and expose a bland construct of metal and plastic.
Nothing of importance, for now he had the badges! Yes,
truly his ideas were genius - pure GENIUS!

Cackling, he retracted his spider legs, straightening
his wig where it had been knocked askew by the
movement of his antennae. Then, satisfied that all was
in order, he marched towards the gate, clipping one
badge onto his uniform top and handing the other to
his SIR unit as they approached. The guard at the gate
peered down at them, squinting at the little white
pieces of plastic for such a long moment that Zim
twitched nervously. Then the man grunted and waved
them through, a bored expression on his face.

The Invader couldn�t help but smirk - Victory! The
brief flash of light as he stepped over the threshold
was minorly interesting - a new security measure,
perhaps? But that mattered little because he was in!
And that could only mean that soon his plans would all
come to fruition at long last.

When he entered the building, the first thing that was
readily noticeable was the rather large desk with the
words �Front Desk: Information Here� imprinted upon
it. Aha! An information dispensing unit! Just the
thing he needed in his search for his former enemy. It
would save him the trouble of having to march about
this pathetic building all day. He looked at GIR, who
was staring blankly back at him.

�GIR! I need you to carry out your mission now!
Remember, give me fifteen minutes to find the
Dib-human and THEN begin. Do you understand GIR?� If
the robot could remember anything - could get anything
right - Zim willed that it would be this thing. Just
this one TINY thing was not too much to ask...

GIR glanced back at his master, with no hint of any
understanding visible on the blank face of his doggy
suit. Zim felt a moment of something akin to despair -
then the robot smiled wide. �Ooookie Dokie!�. There
was a dull clang as the robot saluted, smacking
himself in the forehead with his hand.

�Good!� The Irken enthused. �Now! Go find someone to
bother while I work!� He turned his attention back to
the desk, vaguely aware of GIR scrambling off towards
one of the hallways. Now all he had to do was persuade
this �receptacle� person to divulge the whereabouts of
his enemy. No trouble at all for ZIM!

�I am here to see the Dib,� He announced imperiously
to the lady at the front desk, �You will tell me where
he is or face the wrath of ZIM!� The human woman
glanced over with a bored look on her face. Glanced
over, blinked in puzzled surprise, and then noticed
the waving, black-gloved hands that belonged to the
disguised Invader. Raising one eyebrow, she peered
over the edge of her desk.

�How may I help you?� She drawled in a tone that held
a decided lack of either fear or respect. Zim growled
a little, making a mental note that soon he would have
all of these horrible stink-beasts begging for mercy
beneath the grip of his iron fist. For now he would
simply have to deal with their stupidity.

Drawing himself up to his full, diminutive height, Zim
spoke once again, his voice laced with annoyance, �I
am here to see the Dib. Tell me where he is.� Then he
bared his teeth in an approximation of a smile that
looked suspiciously like the snarl he was trying to
keep inside. It was very important to seem trustworthy
in front of this worthless meat-sack. �I am a big fan
of his and I would like his autograph.� The lie tasted
bad in his mouth, but it seemed to be working; the
woman�s eyes lit up in realization and her entire
manner went from lax boredom to busy enthusiasm.

�Well, why didn�t you say so earlier?� Before Zim
could shout that he had said so - twice- she plopped a
stack of paper as high as the Irken was tall onto the
desk. �I�m sure he�ll be glad to speak to one of his
fans, as soon as we get a bit of paperwork out of the
way. I need you to sign these forms, releasing the
company of any liability in the event of various
potentially life threatening events.�

Zim waved one hand dismissively, �I have no time for
PAPERWORK! I must see the Dib NOW!� He couldn�t even
see the receptionist over the huge mountain of
paperwork, and he stomped one foot rather like a
petulant child. �This is a matter of supreme
importance, foolish earth stink!�

�It�s standard procedure, kid. Boss�s orders. Nobody
gets in to see ANYONE without signing the liability
paperwork. Not after that incident with the fusion
generators and the goldfish.� The woman�s voice had
gone from cheerful to slightly condescending, a fact
which Zim did not miss. Ripping the woman limb from
limb would have been a bit of fun diversion, but it
would also attract the attention of the guards and
make his mission more difficult. With a final grunt of
frustration, he nodded.

�Very well, I will sign your PAPERWORK! But any
further delays and you will face the superior might of
ZIM!�

�Okie-dokie!� For a second her voice held a suspicious
resemblance to GIR�s, but he quickly forgot about that
as she dangled a pen in front of his eyes. He snatched
it and looked over the paper she was holding out to
him. �This is in case of floods, fires or other
natural disasters,� She explained as he scrawled his
name onto the bottom of the sheet. Despite his growing
annoyance and the pain in his wrist while he worked
his way through the papers, he actually couldn�t help
but marvel at the sheer scope of their liability
paperwork - it covered everything from fires and
earthquakes to getting limbs chewed off by genetically
engineered experiments. The explanations accompanying
each sheet were equally cheery for each potential
disaster - Zim couldn�t help but feel a wash of
disgust toward the receptionist, when the armada
arrived and HE was in charge of Earth, he would make
sure that such cheerful stupidity was rewarded with a
slow and painful demise. �Last one now,� The
receptionist crooned, waving a single sheet of paper.
�This one is in the event of a full scale alien
invasion.�

What! Zim shot to attention at those words, hope and
alarm both mingling in him for a few drawn out
seconds. His thoughts were jumbled - did this mean
that the Dib hadn�t entirely given up on his pursuit
of the paranormal? That he hadn�t entirely given up
his pursuit of Zim? Forcing himself back under tight
control, he gritted out a few words, �There�s no such
thing as aliens.�

She giggled inanely, �Oh, we all know that! But he had
us include this one with all of his paperwork anyway -
isn�t he such a kidder?� Glancing at the sheet with a
smile, she crumpled it between her hands and threw it
in the trash. �We�re done! I�ll just call right up and
let him know you�re coming -�

�NO!� At the look of surprise, Zim quickly corrected
himself. �I mean... eh...heh... I mean there�s no
need. I... um... I�m sure he already knows I�m coming.
We had an appointment! Yes, a human appointment - cuz
I�m human!�

The receptionist looked at him quizzically, then
shrugged. �Then go ahead. He�s on the third floor -
Room 322. The elevator is over there.� She pointed
across the room to the row of elevators against the
far wall, then flipped her magazine open again in
dismissal.

For a moment, Zim didn�t move, simply staring at the
receptionist with one eye twitching ever so slightly.
His fists clenched, then unclenched and he whirled on
his heel and marched over to the elevators. Standing
on the tips of his toes, he slammed his fist on the up
button and waited for the primitive machine to open
for him. A ding heralded the arrival of the elevator -
about three doors over from the one he�d pressed the
button for. With a low curse, he scrambled over to the
open door and pushed his way inside.

Behind him he could hear the receptionist talking to
someone else - someone who seemed to be rather upset.
What they were discussing, he didn�t care to hear, as
the desk lady�s piercingly fake happy voice drilled
right into his brain. As the doors shut and the noise
level dropped severely, he leaned against the cold
metal wall and smirked. All was going according to
plan. Reaching the Dib now would be simplicity itself
- and then would come GIR�s distractions... If the
robot could do anything well, it was creating chaos -
a fact that Zim had finally elected to take advantage
of.

He tapped his foot impatiently as he waited for the
elevator to arrive on the third floor, aware that he�d
used up a bit too much time arguing with the lady at
the front desk - he only had five more minutes to find
the Dib before GIR set about with his distracting. As
much faith as the Invader had in his own abilities,
five minutes would be cutting it close even for him.
But even with all the pacing and swearing under his
breath in his native language, the earth machine did
not go any faster. When it finally did open with a
shrill �ding�, Zim practically launched himself out of
it.

Three minutes! Three minutes to find the Dib. What had
the lady said? 322? Zim scanned the numbers on the
doors and found they were a bit lower than the one he
was looking for. But which way was the number in
question? After a moment of hesitation, he headed down
the hallway to the right.

How the Dib could stand to work in this place, Zim
would never know. In the brief amount of time he�d
spent here, he already found himself repulsed by the
boringness of it. After the constant excitement of
being an enemy to Zim, it was still baffling that the
human would have chosen this sterile, lifeless place.
But it had one thing going for it - Zim noted as he
dashed down the tiled hall - everything was pretty
clearly labeled. And he was going in the right
direction, further proof that his own brain was
superior to these earth defenses.

The Invader skidded to a halt as the hallway came to
an abrupt turn, the smooth tiles allowing him little
purchase. Warily, he glanced around the corner,
expecting something other than a continuation of the
blank walkway. Seeing nothing, he continued forward. A
brief tingle ran through him as he stepped past the
turn.

�What in Irk?� He looked down at the faintly visible
beam he had just stepped through. Some sort of alert
system - probably to warn the earthanoids when someone
entered without permission. Of course, he had the
stolen badge, so it shouldn�t have been anything to
worry about. Movement off to one side caught his
attention and he drew his lips back in a worried
snarl. �Who dares impede ZIM?�

No time... he had no time for this nonsense!

�I must see the Dib,� Zim announced, without turning
to look at whoever it was who was trying to hold him
up. �This is a matter of great importance.� Surely
that was clear enough for even the most mentally
challenged earth monkey.

�Of course,� The other finally spoke, his
condescending tone grating on Zim�s nerves. �We just
need to ask you a few questions before we let you
enter a secure area. It�s a standard procedure.� The
Invader tensed, finally looking at the guard who was
addressing him. No matter what the man was saying, Zim
sensed that something was not quite right. The
appearance of a few more people was more than enough
to confirm his suspicions. Somehow they had become
alerted to his presence as something other than a
normal guest.

Okay... this could still work out. It just meant
relying on plan B. Namely, beating the stuffing out of
a few security personnel and THEN capturing the Dib.
Not a problem, at all. He backed up a step or two,
spiderlegs beginning to emerge from his pak. At the
sight of this unexpected apparition, the guard took an
uncertain step backwards. Maybe this wouldn�t be so
difficult - Zim barely had time to entertain the
thought before he heard a high pitched squeal echoing
down the corridor to his back.

There was no mistaking that voice - the Invader wished
he could have been surprised to have GIR show up at
the most inopportune moment possible, but some part of
him had been expecting this to happen the entire time
he�d been there. He was still slow to turn around, his
expression rapidly shifting from a glare to real shock
as he realized just what the robot had done. He�d come
up with a suitable distraction, all right! The little
SIR unit was at the head of a strange mockery of a
parade. He�d found more guards than Zim had believed
possible, and they were headed right toward him.
Still, he was sure he could find some way out of this
- up until the moment his robotic companion collided
with him, the impact flinging them both to the floor.

For a second or two it was nearly silent, with even
GIR gone quiet. Then one of Zim�s contacts struck the
floor and rolled for a ways before coming to a stop
against the boots of a human guard. Exposed! The alien
struggled to get himself back to his feet with his
robot weighing him down, the sudden blare of the
alarms drilling into his skull and making him frantic.

It was no competition - Zim realized with a swell of
disbelief. He�d made a mistake - several mistakes: Not
bringing any weapons, not planning anything to
compensate for GIR�s erratic behavior, not heeding any
of the warnings his senses had been screaming of. The
only thing to think was that somehow the Dib was
behind it - as insane as it might have seemed. The
human wasn�t even trying and he�d managed to
outmaneuver the Irken Elite once again.

The Irken was only mildly aware of someone pointing
out that they�d been telling the truth, that they had
the picture to prove it. He snatched hold of GIR in a
sudden fit of strength, swinging the robot at the
guards who were swarming over him like bees. As
unconventional as his attack was, it worked. They fell
back just slightly, allowing the Invader to squeeze
through. His SIR unit was abandoned in his mad
scramble - nor was it the only thing, as reason
finally went out the window. His plan had gone wrong -
twisted logic dictated that this misfortune could have
only one source.

Instead of making a dash for the exit, Zim lunged at
the closed door 322, his hands reaching out for the
doorknob that was just beyond his reach. �I know
you�re in there, Dib!� His voice rose to a demanding
scream, �You did this! You planned this, you... YOU!�
Hands snatched at him, pulled him back - cold metal
clamped onto his limbs, weighing him down. Piercing
accusations died at last into a silence that was part
exhaustion and a great deal of confusion.

How had it gone wrong? His ingenious plans, his goals;
everything... Burned away in the fires of obsession
and leaving him with a bitter defeat and no hope of
trying again.

Well...No. Not everything. He did have one thing left.

A question aimed at the Dib, if the Dib could hear or
care or think to answer.

�Why...?� It was the last word on his lips when he
felt the stinging pain that spread darkness across his
vision. In the end, not even Zim knew just what
question he was asking.

***

~Log 123~

It�s amazing how little has changed since I�ve been
away - or however you would term my decision to give
up my life�s work for the pipe dream of a normal life
and a caring family. People really ARE stupid - I
didn�t even need to hack the government computers to
gather information. The password was the same as the
one they were using when I was twelve. No wonder
aliens were trying to conquer us - hell, we�ve almost
been asking for it.

Finding the information took only a few minutes -
doing anything with it is proving to be a good deal
more difficult. It�s not that the security for Zim�s
enclosure is particularly complex... well, it is,
don�t get me wrong on that, but it�s not at all what
concerns me. Just about everything they�re using for
alien containment are my father�s creations - or at
least based on his theories. I know the inner workings
of the system better than anyone alive. My father
being the one possible exception, of course, but since
he vanished without a trace over two years ago, I
don�t even know if he IS still alive. It�s not the
idea of breaking into a high security facility and
freeing my former mortal enemy that has me worried.

Then there�s always the fact that if I do this, I will
become a wanted criminal, unable to ever show my face
in public again. The name and reputation I�ve so
painstakingly crafted for myself will go up in a puff
of smoke. I could be caught and punished - I could be
thrown in prison, or worse, in a mental hospital. I
could find myself in the same situation Zim must be in
right now, and wouldn�t that be a fitting irony. The
thought is enough to make anyone cringe at taking such
a risk. Except, that�s not what I�m worried about
either.

It�s Zim.

What if he�s too horribly injured to escape
effectively? Perhaps something will go wrong and we�ll
both be captured. Or he could be... could be...

Dead, Dib. It wasn�t that hard to write, was it?

God, I�m pathetic. I even talk to myself when I�m
typing. But it�s true - it�s my worst fear. What if
I�m already too late and there�s nothing I can do to
save him?

What if he hates me... dear lord, he MUST hate me. And
I�ll sit and argue the matter with myself - flog the
dead horse a couple dozen more times and then I�ll go
anyway.

Years ago, I didn�t know I had a choice. Somehow I
went ahead and made one anyway. It�s a decision I�ve
had ample opportunity to regret in the last few
years... I�ve got more than enough regrets to last me
a lifetime. Now, I have the illusion of a choice. I
can do this crazy thing I�m contemplating, or I can
pretend that nothing has changed and I actually have a
life to get on with. As tempting as it sounds, I know
better.

I have no choice.

I already made it - the first day I saw Zim, I knew
there was no going back. That was a long time ago. A
lifetime ago, even.

~ * ~ * ~


*Chapter Three: Lacuna*

The computer screen flickered, this slight change was
just enough to tear Dib away from staring at it. He
blinked a few times, shaking his head slowly as if
he'd just been woken from a deep sleep. Maybe in a
way, he had - as he tried to force his thoughts into
some semblance of order, it occurred to him that he'd
been as good as asleep for the past six years or so.
Certainly he'd accomplished nothing. His fists
clenched as he surveyed the computer monitor, the
words blurring in and out of his vision as he wavered
on the edge of consciousness.

"No." He gritted the words out between clenched teeth,
feeling the sensation of his fingernails digging into
his palms and leaving bloody half-moon marks. The pain
was nothing really, but it was enough to spur him
completely awake. As clarity came into his amber eyes,
it was accompanied by anger and a tinge of disbelief.
What was he thinking? His fingers found the keys and
he scrolled down through the words he'd so recently
typed.

Pure stupidity, that's what it was. Rationally, there
could be no other explanation.

But he wasn't his father, and "rational" had never
been a word that had been particularly emphasized in
his dictionary. "I can't believe I'm actually
considering this." His voice sounded so small and
pathetic in the dimly lit room - he winced at the
sound of it. "And I'm talking to myself again." But he
made no move to delete the file, the action that his
logical side was desperately screaming for him to do.
His mind was on another track entirely - he had the
mental image of his thoughts as an out of control
train and he wasn't quite sure just what his final
destination would turn out to be.

"What in the hell have I been doing...?" His voice was
shaky, his gaze inexplicably drawn to his hands which
were clenched so tightly now that the blood was
trickling out from between his fingers, leaving bright
red splatters on his keyboard. "I don't even know how
I got here..."

Oh he knew, objectively he knew exactly how he'd
gotten both to this physical location and this
particular point in his life. But mentally,
emotionally it was refusing to click. It didn't feel
like his life at all. He'd been living the existence
of some stranger, the person he was not and could
never have been. That man was the one everyone else
expected him to be - the man his father had tried to
make him into.

He'd rebelled against it for a long time. "When did I
give up?" He wondered aloud, not expecting any answer.

Slowly he forced himself to relax, his fingers
uncurling - already cramping from being held in such a
manner. His palms were sticky, his skin tacky with the
blood, but they didn't hurt at all. Absentmindedly he
licked at the small wounds, trying to gather his
thoughts. The coppery salt taste was not unpleasant,
but it made his stomach roll nonetheless. Dib couldn't
help but wonder if it was just protesting being empty
for so long. He hadn't eaten in nearly four days,
after all. A few more swipes with his tongue and he
left the cuts be - they would heal on their own - cuts
tended to do that, with time.

Besides, there were more important things he needed to
do. A desperate impulse was rising in him, and he
fumbled for the drawers on his desk, jerking them open
with little finesse and rummaging through them. Papers
were shoved aside relentlessly, items that were too
large and unwieldly were removed and tossed carelessly
to the floor. It should have been easy to find what he
was looking for given the relative size of the area he
was scouring, but somehow it refused to be located.

A sharp sting raced along his nerve endings, and he
drew his hand back with a startled grunt. A tiny cut
traced along the inside of his index finger, and
despite the fact that it was barely visible, it hurt
far more than the ones on his palms that were bleeding
profusely. A papercut. It was just a stupid little
papercut - only enough to draw a drop or two of blood.
The paper that had cut him had a slight red stain on
the edge, marking the place where he'd been caught.
Warily, he reached down and snagged it by one corner,
drawing it into the light.

Yes, that was it...

The faded print and numerous creases stood in a clear
testament to constant viewing. Someone at his work had
even commented on how unhealthy it was to be so
obsessed with a sheet of paper - a single look from
him and that individual had rapidly found herself in
the market for a new job.

He remembered the day he'd first held this in his
hands, unable to believe what it was telling him -
perhaps simply unwilling to believe it. Either way, it
had come as a complete surprise. "I should have...done
something." The words were mumbled, confused. "I
messed up somewhere, didn't I? What should I have
done? What?"

* * *

Proof of Alien Existence!

The headline was just a little too blaring for Dib's
comfort. Yes, it drew the eye. Yes, it served the
purpose of catching the attention of the unsuspecting
reader. Yes, it conveyed the essence of the article
that would follow. It therefore did everything that a
headline was logically supposed to do.

Dib hated it.

If it had been something about proof of the existence
of Bigfoot, or perhaps vampires, it wouldn't have
bothered him at all. At some point in his life he'd
lost a great deal of interest in those things - either
that or he'd just gained a great deal of focus in a
particular aspect of the paranormal. He was leaning
towards the latter. But the reason didn't matter -
knowing it would not have changed a thing about how he
felt when he saw those four words.

"Just take the paper," Gaz's voice interrupted his
thoughts, laced with irritation. Over the last couple
of years she'd become increasingly short with him.
Things that she used to dismiss with a grunt and a
shrug and then tuning him out to get back to her game,
were now far more likely to elicit a snide remark or
even a blow. Dib had never found this particularly
surprising - he'd always had a niggling suspicion that
she cared for him far less than he did for her. And he
was far from being the model of big brother-hood. What
was surprising was the fact that she now seemed to be
distancing himself from their father as well. It
didn't make sense... she'd always seemed to want his
attention so badly.

Still, her tone wasn't allowing any argument, and he
didn't offer any. He took the newspaper she was
shoving in his face, his actions finally eliciting at
faint snort of approval. Her obligation dispensed
with, she turned her focus back to the game she was
playing. Dib's gaze followed her briefly, not wanting
to see the paper in his hands. The narrow eyed glare
she threw back at him disabused him of that idea
rather quickly. Clutching the newspaper in both hands
he made his slow way up to his room, not really seeing
where he was going. His feet knew the way, and he
certainly didn't waste any energy thinking about what
he would do when he got there.

How had this happened? After years of trying - chasing
Zim since he was twelve all the way until he'd at last
decided to give it up as a bad game when he was
sixteen - someone had done it. Someone else. His mind
was refusing to grasp this concept, his insides were
twisting in something he would have hesitated to call
jealousy - after all, jealousy implied a certain
amount of caring. He didn't care about stupid things
like chasing aliens anymore. He had his 'real science'
and the respect of his peers, all that he'd ever
wanted out of life.

"Stupid alien." Slipping into his room, he eased his
way over to the bed, careful not to disturb any of the
half-finished projects he was working on - a more
difficult task than expected, as they were all over,
forming a veritable maze. Still, he managed it in the
end, flopping down on his bed with little grace. His
room was vastly different now - even he still found it
jarring somehow. It didn't really feel like his room
anymore. Drawing up his legs and crossing them neatly,
he took another look at the paper Gaz had given him.

It still made no sense... Even having read the
article, so many things just didn't add up. Why would
Zim have done something so stupid? Wait, strike that.
Zim had done a lot of stupid things before. But why
hadn't he gotten away with it this time? It had been a
constant that Dib would usually be on the receiving
end of any negative residual effects of the alien's
plans - or of his own attempts to rescue humanity.
Something had skewed the results this time.

'I should be happy!' He mentally berated himself.
'Zim's been stopped, the Earth is safe! Aliens have
been proven to exist and everyone who used to laugh at
me for saying so can't call me crazy anymore!'

"This is a good thing..." His voice echoed in the
overwhelming silence of the room that was now alien to
even him. With a frustrated sigh, Dib folded the
newspaper and shoved it into his pocket. He would
throw it away later.

* * *

The newspaper crumpled between Dib's hands, wadded
very slowly and deliberately into a little ball of
grayed text and red stains. It fell into the trash can
without a sound. For a moment, the young man didn't
move any further, just staring down at his empty hands
- at the marks both old and fresh that littered his
pale skin. Then he pushed himself to his feet, feeling
the protest shooting through his limbs at the
movement. He was seriously out of shape - although he
ate too little to ever become overweight. His muscles
hadn't had a proper workout since he'd taken up real
science. One thing that chasing Zim had always assured
was that he remained agile.

Doing something like that now would have been nearly
impossible - only the increased length of his legs
would have given him any chance at all. But he didn't
think he'd have to be doing much in the way of
running. He sifted through the mess on the floor,
already with a general idea of where the object he was
seeking was. A gray box. Dib pulled it out, blew the
dust away and spent a moment trying not to cough
himself into unconciousness before lifting the lid and
reaching in. The dark fabric was impossibly smooth
against his fingertips, unfolding into an expanse of
midnight black as he drew it from its resting place.

Too small for him now, but...

He glanced over at the pitifully inadaquate mirror
propped against the wall on his dresser, his old coat
held in front of him like a shield. He laid it across
the back of the chair, shrugging out of his white lab
coat and letting it fall to the floor in a useless
heap. With unbelievable care he slid one arm into the
sleeve of his trenchcoat.

How long had it really been? He'd stopped wearing it
at sixteen, and while he had grown since then, it
wasn't as small as he'd thought it would be. Still,
looking into the mirror with the blackness of it
wrapped around him, it seemed almost laughable. He was
a grown man! This was the craziest thing he'd ever
done!

'I don't care.' Dib told the rational little voice,
and it fell silent with a confused whimper. Yes, he
was a grown man, wearing a teenager's coat, but when
one got past that first impression, well... Looking in
the mirror it was obvious. It looked more right than
the lab coat ever had - the color bringing out the
glistening darkness of his hair and the honey-amber of
his eyes, a few shades darker than it had been years
before.

'Is this me? Is this what I was supposed to be?' A
smile ghosted across his lips.

[...Maybe I'm not doing what I was meant to do -
because what I was meant to do was catch me that
alien!]

His head jerked up, turning as if he'd heard a voice.
There was no one there, but at least he'd been
reminded of where he was and what he was doing. What
he was supposed to be doing. What he needed to do.

Amber eyes darted to the digital clock. It was getting
late. If his information was correct, the shift change
would be happening in about two hours or so. That
didn't leave him with much time.

Leaving this for another day would have given him
better opportunities, it was true. But he was sick and
tired of letting it pass. There were so many things
that needed to be set right somehow, delaying would be
giving in to that last vestige of the rank cowardice
that had kept him in this place so long. No more.

Kicking his chair aside, impatiently, he pulled his
laptop off the desk and sank to the floor. It was
braced across his knees as his fingers flew over the
keyboard, typing commands. No more wondering where
life went wrong - he knew. No more trying to stave off
the inevitable decline into madness that this sterile
existence was driving him to. It was time to take it
all back.

'Sorry, Dad. I'm not this person - I never could be
what you wanted and maybe I'll always be sorry for
that. But I'm not going to let it destroy me this way.
For better or for worse, it's my life and I'm the one
who has to live it. And I'll live it the way I want,
not the way the world expects me to...'

*



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